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Word of Rosalind’s attachment to Sebastian spread quickly. She did not know whether the source of the rumors was Mr. Sellers, Lady Pendleton, or one of the many other people she and Sebastian had passed whilst riding together in the park, but when Elinor and Margaret arrived at the house the next day, they were agog with the news.

“Is it true, then?” Elinor asked the moment she was seated in the drawing room.

“Is what true?” Rosalind focused on pouring the tea, even as her hand trembled.

“That you are engaged to be married to the Duke of Kelbrook.”

Rosalind glanced at her friend. Elinor’s eyes resembled the saucers beneath their teacups. “It is true,” she said.

With a dreamy look on her face, Elinor set her hand upon her chest and gave a dramatic sigh. “He is the most handsome of men.”

“He’s a duke,” Margaret said, shortly. “You would likely think him handsome even if he were actually the plainest of men.”

Her comment was a little too close to the one Sebastian had made for Rosalind’s comfort. “Whether or not he is handsome or a duke has little bearing on my reason for accepting his hand,” she said.

Margaret eyed her suspiciously. “Then, why did you? We have associated with one another all Season. I feel sure that Elinor and I would have known had he been courting you these last few months.”

She had walked into a trap of her own making.

But before she could formulate a response, Elinor spoke again. “Unless you purposely kept it a secret.” If possible, Elinor’s eyes were even rounder than they’d been before. “That would be so romantic.”

Now that all possibility of nullifying the marriage contract was gone, there was really no reason that the decades-old agreement should remain a secret, and yet, Rosalind found herself reluctant to make it public knowledge. Perhaps it was because a portion of her heart still grieved for the loss of her freedom of choice—that the love match she had dreamed of in her youth would never be. Then again, it might be that she simply did not wish her name and Sebastian’s bandied about by disparaging Society gossips. Her marriage agreement with him was a private thing, and for now, she would like it to stay that way. She rather thought that he would too. “It was a well-kept secret,” she admitted. “Although His Grace does not frequent Society events often, his family and mine have been friends for many years.”

“I knew it!” Elinor was in raptures again.

Rosalind handed her a cup of tea and then offered one to Margaret. By the look on Margaret’s face, she was still unconvinced.

“His Grace is quite remarkable, Margaret,” Rosalind said. “He is intelligent and kind and has a quiet sense of humor.” As she spoke, memories of her time with Sebastian flitted through her mind, and she acknowledged the truth of her own words. The gentleman she had interacted with recently was very different from the taciturn youth she’d known ten years ago.

“And he dances divinely,” Elinor added.

Margaret raised her eyes to the ceiling as Elinor began to giggle. Rosalind smiled at the two of them. Although dissimilar in their approaches to life, she knew that her friends both had her best interest at heart.

A light knock sounded on the door to the drawing room, and Rutherford entered, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

“Forgive the intrusion, miss,” he said. “These just arrived for you. And there is a card attached.”

Rosalind’s heart began to pound. Silently praying that she would not have to explain away a delivery from Mr. Sellers, she reached for the bouquet.

“Thank you, Rutherford.”

The butler bowed and left the room.

“How pretty,” Elinor said.

Eyeing the purple asters curiously, Margaret took a sip of tea. “Are they from a soon-to-be-disappointed beau or your betrothed, I wonder?”

Rosalind withdrew the envelope from the center of the bouquet. Her name was written across it in a masculine script. Fighting a wave of nausea, she broke the seal and withdrew the paper within. She glanced at the signature at the bottom. Sebastian. Relief brought a smile to her lips. “They’re from the duke,” she said. Then, starting at the top of the page, she began to read.

Dear Rosalind,

Following our meeting at Langton House last week and your agreement to move forward with our wedding, I petitioned the archbishop for a special license. The document arrived by courier yesterday afternoon. I spoke to the rector at St. George’s at Hanover Square this morning. He has agreed to marry us at eleven o’clock on Sunday, October 13th, by which time, he assures me, those participating in Holy Communion will have vacated the church. If this meets with your approval, I shall write to Mrs. Frost, telling her to expect us at Finley Park that evening.

Yours sincerely,

Sebastian